Claiming His Wedding Night (13 page)

‘You’re right. But we’ll need to phone for a taxi.’

As she spoke, headlights approached and a cab drew up a short distance away and dropped a young couple, who hurried straight into the hospital.

‘We’re in luck,’ Martin exclaimed, signalling the driver, and a moment later they were in the cab and heading back to the airport. There was comparatively little traffic about and they made good time.

Perdita had expected Martin to go straight back to San Jose and was surprised when he asked for two tickets on the next flight to Vegas.

‘There’s really no need to come with me,’ she protested.

But, a determined look on his fair face, he said, ‘You’ve had one hell of a night, and there’s no way I’m letting you go alone.’

Not content with accompanying her on the flight, he insisted on getting a cab and escorting her back to the hotel.

Apart from when they had made a quick visit to the airport restrooms to wash their hands and freshen up, he hadn’t left her side for a moment.

She was well aware that, after the unkind way she had treated him, she should be grateful for all the care he had lavished on her but, even so, that amount of mollycoddling irritated her.

Although it was now the early hours of the morning, on reaching the floodlit Imperial Palace they found that the casino was still in full swing.

When, instead of just saying goodbye and leaving her there, Martin asked the taxi driver to wait and followed her into the lobby, her irritation overflowed. ‘For heaven’s sake, Martin, you don’t need to take me right back to the suite.’

Looking hurt, he said, ‘Earlier I noticed the hotel had an all night coffee bar, so I thought I’d snatch a quick cup before I started back.’

Feeling guilty at her own thoughtlessness, she said, ‘Of course…I’m sorry.’

Then, sincerely, ‘You’ve been absolutely great. I really can’t thank you enough for all your help.’

‘You know I’ll always be here for you.’

Touched, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, promising, ‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow,’ before hurrying to the lift.

As the doors slid open she glanced back and caught a glimpse of Martin taking his cellphone from his pocket. So he
had
got it after all.

When the lift stopped at the seventh floor, she walked along the deserted corridor until she got to suite 704.

Earlier she had dropped one of the card keys they had been
given into her bag so, rather than wake Jared, she would go in quietly, slip into bed beside him and snuggle close.

With a little smile of anticipation, she pictured his surprise and pleasure when he awoke and realized she was back.

The card slid silently into the slot and the door opened with the slightest of clicks. She crossed the sitting room—which was in semi-darkness, the only light coming in from the floodlighting outside—and opened the bedroom door.

A single bedside lamp was lit and in its soft glow she saw a man with dark hair who appeared to be sleeping and, standing beside the bed, a naked woman, her long red hair falling around smooth white shoulders and voluptuous breasts.

For the space of a heartbeat, Perdita thought she was in the wrong suite.

Then her eyes confirmed what her brain was refusing to accept. Though she had never set eyes on the woman before, the man was undoubtedly Jared.

As Perdita stood, shocked into immobility, the redhead began to pull on her clothes.

Jared had always had a thing about redheads. The thought fell like an ice crystal into Perdita’s frozen mind. Then, like some zombie, she turned and walked away, out of the suite, out of Jared’s life.

Her mind feeling jarred, incapable of coherent thought, she got into the lift and pressed the first floor button.

When she reached the lobby, almost as if he had been expecting her, Martin appeared and walked towards her.

Dully, she said, ‘I want to go home.’

He asked no questions, merely said, ‘The cab’s still waiting so let’s go.’

During the dreadful days that followed, Martin was a tower of strength. He made no comment and asked no questions. He
merely took care of her, encouraging her to sleep, stopping phone calls and visitors and reminding her to eat and drink.

Even through the thick haze of pain and misery that engulfed her, she recognized that he was doing everything in his power to please her and make her happy once more.

But the one thing he couldn’t do, the one thing she desperately needed to do, was expunge from her memory the sight of a redheaded woman whose naked breasts were like alabaster…

A knock at the door brought her back to the present with a start and, shaken by the vividness of those memories, she paused to try and gather herself before calling, ‘Come in.’

Hilary appeared with a small case and, catching sight of Perdita’s face, queried, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, no…I was miles away.’

Proffering the case, Hilary said a shade doubtfully, ‘I’m not sure whether this will be big enough. What do you think?’

‘Oh, this should be fine, thanks,’ Perdita told her.

When Hilary had gone, Perdita packed the case, finding it was quite adequate for the small amount she was taking, and put it ready to go in the car.

After a little thought, she changed into a simple oatmeal dress with a loose jacket and open-toed shoes and put a matching handbag by the case.

Then, with half an hour or so to spare, she returned to the sunny patio to keep Sam company and try to regain her equanimity.

Jared was back rather earlier than he had anticipated and, when their cases had been stowed in the boot, they set off, purring north-eastwards along the St Helena Highway.

‘How far is it to Don and Estelle’s?’ she asked.

‘About five miles along the Valley,’ he told her. ‘Their place is called Villa Rosa.’

Apart from that brief exchange, the short journey proved to be a silent one.

When they drew up outside the Villa Rosa, Perdita saw it was a sprawling one-storey white painted frame house, its porch engulfed in climbing roses which made the air heady with scent.

Jared led the way round the back where quite a number of people were already assembled by the poolside barbecue, drinks in their hands.

Two men were tending the massive barbecue, one of them bare-chested and wearing frayed cut-offs and flip-flops, the other sporting a chef’s hat and apron.

There was an atmosphere of informal friendliness that was relaxed and pleasant. Most of the women wore cotton trousers and tops, the men shorts and T-shirts. Against the somewhat unprepossessing display of knees and paunches, Jared looked coolly elegant.

All the guests, men and women alike, had what Perdita was starting to recognize as an authentic West Coast tan.

A tall, nice-looking woman with soft dark hair and big brown eyes detached herself from the crowd and came to greet them, smiling from one to the other.

‘Jared…’ She gave him a hug. Then, holding out her hand, ‘And you must be Perdita. How nice to meet you. I’m so glad you could come.

‘I’m Estelle…’ Patting her sizable bulge, she added, ‘And this is Don Junior. An active lad who will almost certainly grow up to be a footballer.’

As Perdita smiled, Don came over to hand them each a glass of white wine and add his greetings to those of his wife.

‘By the way,’ he went on, turning to Jared, ‘Greg’s here. He was just telling me about a new grape variety he’s thinking of planting…’

As the two men fell into conversation, with a fondly exas
perated glance at her husband, Estelle said to Perdita, ‘Don never talks about anything but wine if there’s anyone there willing to listen.’

Then, linking her arm through Perdita’s, ‘Come and say hello to some of our mutual neighbours.’

For a while they moved from group to group, meeting people and chatting. Everyone was pleasant and friendly, and
curious
.

Understandably so, as almost everyone seemed to have assumed that Jared was a bachelor. Now to find he had a wife, and a wife with an English accent, caused a minor sensation.

Most of the women asked, ‘Have you been married very long?’

Most of the men, ‘Where has Jared been hiding you?’

Having had no guidance from Jared, and with no idea how to answer their questions, Perdita said vaguely that they had been married for quite a while, adding that she had been living and working in London.

When she failed to elaborate, it was plain that a few of them would have liked to have questioned her further, but good manners prevailed and the talk moved on to a variety of other things.

She was discussing Valley life with Joanie and Howard who, she soon discovered, lived next door to Wolf Rock, when Estelle excused herself and went to find Don and chivy him into replenishing the dwindling stock of chilled white wine.

After a while the conversation was interrupted by a man in a chef’s hat calling, ‘Food’s up, folks…Come and grab a plate while it’s hot.’

With cheerful efficiency, Perdita’s glass was refilled and she was handed a plate containing a variety of barbecued meat and salad and some cutlery rolled in a napkin.

Moving out of the crowd, she sat down at a small umbrella-shaded table a little apart from the rest.

There had been no sign of Jared since they had left him talking to Don, but now she noticed him sitting on a swing-seat with a predatory-looking blonde.

The woman, who must have been in her late twenties or early thirties, was undeniably beautiful beneath the heavy make-up.

She was wearing a skimpy top and the briefest of shorts that would have looked more in keeping on a teenager, and was leaning towards Jared, all fluttering eyelashes and pliant golden curves.

Her breast was pressed against his upper arm and one hand was spread, open-fingered, across his shirt front. When she said something, obviously teasing, his white smile flashed in response.

‘May I join you?’ Estelle appeared by Perdita’s side, plate in hand.

‘Of course.’ Looking up at the other woman, Perdita managed a smile.

As Estelle began to tuck into a large steak, Perdita’s eyes were drawn once more to the pair on the swing-seat. As she watched, the blonde’s red-tipped fingers unfastened a couple of buttons and slipped inside Jared’s shirt.

He caught her hand and withdrew it but, instead of just letting it go, he held it.

Watching those glistening red lips pouting at him seductively, Perdita felt a fierce pang of jealousy and anger. How
could
he bring her here and then leave her to her own devices while he flirted openly with another woman?

‘I can tell what you’re thinking,’ Estelle remarked suddenly. ‘But don’t let Marcia’s antics bother you. Even though she’s got a perfectly good husband of her own, she’s never been able to resist trying her wiles on every man who comes within range.

‘Since she reached the ripe old age of thirty, she’s been even worse. It’s as if she’s terrified of losing her sex appeal.’

Receiving no immediate response, Estelle went on, ‘You can see it’s not Jared’s fault. He’s doing absolutely nothing to encourage her.’

‘Unless you count holding her hand,’ Perdita said tightly.

Estelle shook her head. ‘If you look more closely, I think you’ll find that
she’s
holding
his
hand. All Jared’s doing is trying, as gracefully as possible, to fend her off.’

When Perdita turned bleak eyes on her, the other woman went on gently, ‘I can see you’re head over heels in love with him and, believe me, I know only too well what it’s like to be jealous.

‘When Don and I were first married, if he so much as looked at another woman I used to fly into a jealous rage. He wanted me to trust him, but somehow, even though he swore he loved me, I couldn’t. That lack of trust and my unreasonable jealousy almost broke up our marriage. It’s only by the grace of God that I woke up in time and realized that if I didn’t change, I’d lose him…’

As Perdita listened, she glanced at the swing-seat once more. Jared had vanished and the blonde was sitting there alone, nursing an untouched plate of food and looking disconsolate.

‘Now our marriage is as firm as a rock,’ Estelle went on. ‘I trust him implicitly and I make sure he knows it…’

‘But, in your case, I’m sure Don’s worthy of your trust. Not all men are.’

‘That’s quite true.’

‘So is there any way to tell the difference?’

‘I think so. If you can put jealousy to one side and start to think clearly about what kind of man you’ve got, you’ll soon know.

‘Is he basically a one woman man? Is he willing to be faithful? Is he
capable
of being faithful? Has he enough moral fibre? Enough self-control?

‘If the answer to those questions is yes, he should be worthy of any woman’s trust.’

Then, a shade hesitantly, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong between you and Jared, and I don’t want to know. But I’ll tell you one thing—though I’ve seen plenty of women vying for his attention, I’ve never seen him show the slightest interest in any of them.

‘So much so that if he hadn’t been quite obviously straight I might well have thought—’ She stopped speaking abruptly.

Then, after a moment, sounding embarrassed, uncomfortable, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut. I can only apologize if I’ve offended you by sticking my nose into your affairs.

‘But I very much hope that you and I can be friends. I like and respect Jared, so when I see two nice people who obviously love each other having problems, it seems a shame to—’

Coming to life, Perdita broke in quickly, ‘You haven’t offended me. In fact I’m really grateful for such plain speaking.’

Then, feeling a sudden urge to confide in this friendly, sensible woman, she admitted, ‘And you’re quite right about me being jealous. I never could help it. So many women seemed to find Jared irresistible that he could have had his pick—’

‘Presumably he did. He picked you.’

‘And that should have been enough?’

‘It wasn’t?’

‘At first it was, but I suppose I’ve always been afraid that I wasn’t beautiful enough, clever enough or interesting enough to hold him.’